Holding on to Good
by atetheredmind
Summary: After the war, Katniss and Peeta try to hold on to the promise that things can be good again. A collection of vignettes. Set after "Mockingjay."
1. Chapter 1

_A series of not-quite vignettes detailing how Katniss and Peeta grow back together. Doesn't follow a particular timeline, though what I've written so far is chronological.__  
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The bread sits on her dining table, nestled in the white linen cloth of a wicker basket. Katniss just stares at it dumbly. A minute passes. Maybe two. Finally, cautiously, she sneaks up to the table and tugs the cloth to the side to get a better look. Cheese buns. She snaps her hand back as if stung.

She continues to stare at the bread. Peeta. Of course. Bread and Peeta. Peeta and bread. The two would forever be linked together for her. Greasy Sae must have let him into her house this morning while she was out hunting. Or maybe she hadn't—Katniss really made no effort to lock her front door these days; maybe Peeta just invited himself in to leave the cheese buns for her.

The game bag from her hunt earlier weighs heavily in her hand now. She had shot two squirrels and a rabbit this morning, the most game she had snagged in a while, at least since she had started hunting again. She hadn't been putting much effort into it, though, if she were being honest; most of the time, she just gazed off into space, sometimes getting lost for hours. Like she had today. It must be close to dinner time, but Peeta had probably dropped off the rolls around lunch.

She is still staring at the bread basket when she feels an irrational rush of anger. Anger at Peeta, anger that he was always thinking of her, doing things for her, and she wasn't—she hadn't even been thinking of him, of feeding him, when she shot her game. Her only thought was giving the Sae the squirrels to turn into stew when she came over to Katniss' to cook, food she could stretch out for at least a week; the rabbit would be for Sae to take home, in return for the stew.

Now she would have to give Peeta one of the squirrels, an exchange for the bread. And it makes her mad. How could he act like before, like nothing had happened, like the two of them hadn't completely devolved into lunatics only a few months ago, lunatics wounded beyond repair?

Before she can realize it, she's out the door and across the lawn, storming up the steps to Peeta's house. She swoops through his front door without knocking, with only a niggling doubt that maybe that wasn't a good idea, and she finds him in his kitchen. He's just turning around with a loaf of bread fresh from the oven when he sees her striding into the kitchen. He's surprised, but he tries to smile at her. No doubt the confusion in his eyes is due to the scowl on her face.

"Hi—" he starts, but she digs through her game bag and plops a squirrel on his dining table.

"Here," she grits out.

He looks at the rodent in slight bewilderment but offers her another smile, nodding. "Thanks. You didn't have to."

"Yes, I did. For the rolls." She's suddenly aware of how hostile her voice sounds, and she wishes she wouldn't be so mean, but she's too stubborn to stop now, not when Peeta is looking at her with such pity in his eyes.

"You don't owe me for the rolls, Katniss," he says. "I just made extras and thought you might want some."

Katniss clenches the game bag in her fist. "I wish you would tell me beforehand, before I go hunting, so I know if I need to get more game to give you."

Peeta furrows his brow and speaks slowly. "How can I tell you when you're off hunting before I start baking? And you don't have to get me any game, if you don't want to."

Katniss' scowl deepens. "Yes, I do have to, if you're going to give me rolls every morning—"

"Stop it," Peeta snaps suddenly, dropping the loaf of bread on the table in annoyance. Katniss blinks, surprised. She's certain she can see his jaw clenching and unclenching. "Just stop it."

"But—"

"No. I know you think you still owe me for—for something that happened years ago, for the bread. But you don't, okay? So cut it out. You have to stop this quid pro quo bullshit you do because people don't just—_most_ people don't just do something nice for someone expecting something in return, okay?" She's sure that "most people" comment is a jab at her, but she can't be upset because it's probably true. An uncomfortable silence settles in the empty space his words leave as Katniss struggles with a response, but Peeta sighs, glancing out the window to his right. "It's not even true, anyway."

"What's not true?" Katniss asks. She's a little dumbfounded by his outburst. She knows she shouldn't be because she provoked him—she always provokes him—but his anger catches her off guard regardless.

"That I saved you first."

"What do you mean?"

Another heavy pause. He continues to stare out the window, his face bracketed by some unseen pain. Then, "You might not have noticed me until that day, Katniss, but you forget that I have—" there, Peeta swallows his next words like he's swallowing a knife, but she is sure she knows what he had started to say, what he meant to say, "you forget that I had a few years' head start on you. I know I was just a stupid kid then, but why do you think I was so enamored by you?"

Katniss remembers his words, the red plaid dress and pigtails, the birds who stopped to listen to her sing. _When your song ended, I knew I was a goner._ But that seems like a lifetime ago, now, those days in the cave. She just shrugs helplessly, still not convinced anyone could ever really love her, not after everything.

"You know what it was like for me, growing up. My mother wasn't an easy person to love. No matter how desperately I wanted her love, her approval—I could never seem to earn it, not truly. I craved something, something beautiful, something pure, something to sustain me when things got really bad," he speaks softly, and now he's looking at her. She almost wishes he wouldn't because there's something so raw in his eyes, it stirs a sharp, exquisite pain in her chest. "So when I first saw you…what I felt for you, it was the purest thing I could have possibly known at the time. Every slap, every punch, every insult…I just held onto you. You gave me hope, something to pull me through. You gave me life, Katniss."

His voice hardens. "So, I get it. I do. I saved you with the bread. And I saved you in the arena. And then I saved you in District 13. But all those years, you saved me, over and over and over again. Can we just be even already?" he asks wearily, sounding so defeated as he slumps back against the kitchen counter.

Katniss is frozen to her spot as he looks at her with his blue, plaintive eyes. She's sure she must look like one of her prey right before she shoots it down with an arrow. But Peeta's words didn't find purchase in her eye, just her heart. She purses her lips together, nervously stroking the frayed ends of her short braid. Part of her wants to run, is already out the door, back into the woods or even her bed. But there were demons everywhere, weren't there? Her house, the woods, town, his house. Here, she knows (selfishly) she won't have to be alone with the demons, at least, even if she deserves to be.

So she finally finds her voice. "Okay." It's hardly more than a squeak.

"Okay?" Peeta repeats suspiciously.

She clears her throat and nods resolutely, feeling inspired, if not somewhat wounded, by his words. "Okay. We're even. You're right. I—" She doesn't know what she wants to say next, but she wants this uncomfortable feeling suddenly creeping up on her to stop. "Just. You're right." She looks to the dining table anxiously, ready to change the conversation. She notices he's put out a plate and silverware as if preparing to eat. "I'll stay to eat dinner—with you. If that's okay?"

He finally smiles, though it's a weak offering. "Okay." He tugs his oven mitt off and tosses it onto the counter.

Katniss looks around warily, her eyes landing on the squirrel she dumped on his table. Cringing, she picks it back up. "I can just—keep this…"

Peeta actually laughs, and the sound startles her. "I mean, if you're offering it, I'll take it. I'm not going to turn down perfectly good squirrel meat," he says as he grabs another plate for her and sets it on the table.

She smiles despite herself. "Well, I can clean it for you later then. If you'd like."

"You were always better at it than me," he says with a shrug. Katniss stuffs it back into her bag with the other game. "I didn't make a whole lot for dinner, to be honest. I was actually just experimenting with a recipe, so I hope you like it." Peeta purses his lips in a sheepish smile as he sets a bowl of crescent rolls on the table.

Sitting down in front of her plate, Katniss eyes the rolls curiously. "What are they?" She starts to grab one but realizes he hasn't even filled his plate yet, and that would just be rude of her, wouldn't it? Peeta notes her hesitancy and nods her on, grabbing a couple for himself.

"I cut up some of that fowl you got last week, cooked it with some scallions and butter and baked it into these rolls."

Katniss takes a bite, chews thoughtfully and swallows. Then she practically inhales the rest of it. "This is really good," she gushes around a mouthful, then wipes the crumbs off her lips in slight embarrassment. She didn't realize she was so hungry, but she couldn't actually remember the last thing she had eaten.

Peeta grins a little sheepishly. "Good. Great." He takes a bite of his own roll.

Biting into another roll, Katniss contemplates the morsel in her hand. "You know, it reminds me of the goose liver and puffy bread from—" She falters when she realizes her words, when she sees the look pass over his face. "The Capitol. The…first time," she finishes weakly.

He nods slowly, swallowing thickly as he looks at the roll still in his hand. "Yeah…yeah, I remember, actually." He chuckles softly, but his face looks a little paler. "It wasn't a conscious thing, I don't think—trying to recreate them." Katniss stuffs her mouth so she doesn't have to respond. "But I guess if there's anything worth remembering from the games, it's the food," he jokes before taking another bite, and Katniss smiles in agreement, but she thinks there were some other things worth remembering from the first games, like the time they spent together, getting to know him. And Rue. Sweet Rue. She blinks rapidly at the unexpected tears.

Peeta notices her expression falter, so he hurriedly changes the topic. "I, um, also made some honey bread. For dessert," he says, pushing toward her the loaf he had been taking out of the oven when she barged in. "I used to make this all the time, so I know it's decent."

Grateful for the change in conversation, Katniss gives him a small smile, fingering the roll in her hand. "Sounds good. I'll try to save some room—but I can't promise anything; I might stuff myself on these," she says, gesturing to the roll. Peeta just chuckles.


	2. Chapter 2

Gritting his teeth, Peeta rips a sheet out of his sketchbook and smashes it in his fist before tossing it on the floor. Wrong. He tries sketching again on a clean page, his pencil scratching against the surface. After a few minutes, he rips out that page and trashes it with the other crumbled papers. Still wrong.

He's not sure how long he repeats this before he hears a light knock on his front door, but he ignores it, carefully dragging the pencil lead over the page in purposeful strokes. Sitting back, he eyes the drawing, but then he growls, tearing it out of his book too. It was all wrong.

His front door opens behind him and shuts quietly. Finally, he hears her voice over his shoulder, "You're here." He nods curtly, not looking away from his sketchbook. "You didn't hear me knock?"

"Sorry. Drawing." His words are clipped, but he's afraid if he loses his concentration now, the memory will escape him completely.

Katniss moves into the living room, standing over him apprehensively. "What are you drawing?" When he doesn't respond right away, she kneels down to pick up one of the balled up pieces of paper.

Before she can unravel it, he snaps, "Don't! They're not right!" His outburst startles her, and she drops the paper. Immediately, Peeta feels guilty, so he sighs, forcing himself to set the pencil down and look at her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I'm just frustrated."

Her eyes soften, and she sits down in an armchair across from the couch, where he's perched hovering over his sketchbook on the coffee table. "Why are you frustrated?" she asks.

Peeta runs his hands through his hair, tugging on the curls in annoyance. "I can't—I'm trying to draw my mother, but I can't remember what she looks like. I thought if I drew her, it'd come back to me, but everything looks wrong." Katniss looks dumbfounded, which makes him feel worse. "This happens sometimes. I just forget things, things I used to remember. Sometimes I can't remember the recipes for things I used to make every damn day in the bakery, simple things I used to know like the back of my hand. Hell, I bet I couldn't even remember what that looks like right now."

When she doesn't speak still, he continues quietly, "I should be able to remember my mother's face. I can't forget these things."

Her face hardens, which surprises him. "Why are you drawing her? Why would you _want_ to? Why would you want to remember her face? She was a mean, horrible person, Peeta! She hit you!" She's practically yelling by this point, rendering Peeta speechless for a moment. "Why? She didn't even want anything to do with you after you came back the first time!"

Peeta's expression sours. "Well, she wasn't the only one who didn't want anything to do with me after I came back from the games. I guess she was the first person who taught me how to love someone enough for the two of us," he spits ruefully and almost instantly regrets his words when he notices how stricken she looks.

She's out of her seat and out the door before he can say anything else. He briefly considers chasing her, but he doesn't have the energy to argue with her right now. She would resist him, anyway. Groaning, Peeta sinks back into the couch and covers his face with his hands. He wasn't wrong; unnecessarily cruel, maybe. But it wasn't fair of her to dictate how he should or shouldn't feel, particularly regarding his family. What did she even know about them? Had she even cared to learn anything about his parents or his brothers before they died?

He wishes he hadn't snapped at her, though. He shouldn't have been so mean. He used to have a better hold on his temper, could hold his tongue better. He used to have more patience in dealing with Katniss' indifference and hostility. But it was just another aspect of himself that the Capitol had managed to poison. The thought makes him feel sick to his stomach.

In a fit of rage, he hurls his sketchbook across the room. When it clatters against a wall and flutters to the floor, he's suddenly struck with a similar memory: knocking over a vase in the Justice Hall of District 11 while arguing with Katniss and Haymitch. He feels immediately contrite. Maybe this wasn't a Capitol influence; maybe this anger was a part of him already. Maybe he was his mother's son, after all.

Sighing in defeat, Peeta stands up to retrieve his sketchbook and sets it back down on the coffee table. He smooths out the creased pages, picks up his pencil and starts sketching again.

Later that night, he never hears the door open, but he stiffens anyway when he senses her presence behind him. Katniss moves to stand in the living room. "I just don't understand," she says bluntly. Her face is guarded, but she doesn't look angry or upset, at least. "So. Help me understand."

He stares at her, his sketchbook still open before him but with a lot less pages now. Ripped and crumpled paper litters the living room like ashes. Taking a deep breath, he starts uneasily, "Katniss…sometimes, there's a lot of rage inside me. I can feel it down in my _bones_. It scares me. I don't know if the Capitol did this to me…or if it's been with me all along, and I just got really good at burying it.

"But I don't want to live like this. I feel like it's going to choke me. I can't go around anymore, wearing it around my neck like a chip on my shoulder. I have to…get it out. I can't dwell on the bad things; I don't want to hold onto the anger and the hurt she caused me. I have to think about the good things she did, however few and far between they were. I have to draw her; I have to draw these things. I have to take that stuff out of me and put it down on paper so it won't consume me anymore."

His eyes start to water, and he presses the heel of his palms against his eyes, hard. She makes a funny sound, and he glances up at her; he's not sure he's ever seen her look so sad.

She looks down at her feet to hide her face, her braid falling over her shoulder. She toes one of the balls of paper, then leans down to pick it up. Sitting down on the floor cross-legged, she gingerly opens up one of his discarded attempts at his mother's portrait. He watches her eye it critically as she chews her lip. Finally, she sets the paper on the table before them and looks at him.

"Her hair was dirty blond. Chin-length and parted in the middle," she says thoughtfully. "Her nose…it looked like yours, long, turned up at the end just slightly. Her eyes though…you must have gotten yours from your dad because they don't look like hers at all. Green, I think. Maybe hazel, and her eyebrows went straight across. They always looked pinched in the middle. She had worry lines across her forehead and around her mouth. Her lips were thin; they always seemed to be pursed in a scowl, but—maybe you saw her smile sometimes. She had a square chin."

Peeta gapes at her as she talks, and he realizes she's describing his mother perfectly. It all comes back to him, and he can see her vividly in his mind for the first time in a while. He blinks rapidly while she looks at him expectantly, and then his mouth spreads into a smile. "Thank you, that—that was perfect. It helps me immensely."

He quickly begins sketching the mental image Katniss has provided him while it's still fresh in his mind. She remains silent while he draws, and soon he's absorbed in his work, everything fading to the background.

When he's mostly done, he stops to examine the picture. It looks just like how he remembers his mother. He slides it over to Katniss, and, after studying it, she nods her approval. "That's her."

He feels like collapsing in relief, but he pulls the sheet back and adds some more shading to her hair.

"Peeta," Katniss says questioningly. "Tell me about her. The good things you remember."

His hand stalls, and he looks at her cautiously. Now, her face is open and honest, her eyes urging him on. Smiling slowly, Peeta begins sorting through his memories of his mother. "Well…she always let me lick the batter off the beaters when she was done with the mixer. She was really good at math—she was the one who kept the books—so she helped me a lot with my math homework growing up. And when I was younger, she hated how curly my hair got, so she would always wet it and comb it back every day before school. I guess that's a weird thing to actually like about her," he says with a short laugh, and her lips quirk. "But she was pretty gentle in those moments. She actually used to tell me I was a handsome boy back in those days. And she taught me this stupid song about a rabbit when I was learning how to tie my shoelaces. Sometimes I still hear it in my head when I tie my shoes."

He pauses, lost in his memories. When he speaks again, he feels weary. "I guess…most of her good moments were from when I was younger. She was nicer then. Not so bitter and mean. But…every year, on the day of the Reaping, she made sure to comb my hair. Of course, she was more exasperated by that point, and it usually followed some kind of insulting remark about my appearance," he says with a wry smile.

Katniss' eyes are hard to read, but she offers him a small smile. "Thank you. For telling me."

Nodding, Peeta stares at his mother's portrait. No, her good moments didn't outweigh her bad, but these memories were something, at least. They were enough.

Unexpectedly, Katniss seizes his hand, catching him off guard. He looks to her with alarm, but instinctually, he squeezes her fingers. When was the last time they had physically touched? He finds himself savoring the feel of her calloused palms and the jagged edges of her nails.

"Peeta, we should write this down," she urges earnestly. "What you said about your mother. And we should do it for everyone. Everyone who died. Your family, Prim, Finnick, Rue, even the others in the games, like Wiress and Chaff. We should write down everything we know about them, every good thing they did. It can be like the plant book we did. You can draw everyone, and I'll write it all down. What do you think?"

He can't contain his smile. "I think that's a great idea, Katniss. When should we start?" She smiles widely in response.


	3. Chapter 3

It's been two days. She knows this because of how many times the sun has risen and set; she tracked it in the sky through the window of her bedroom, where she has lain in bed for those two days. She is buried under the covers, lying on her side. She hasn't moved from this position since she woke up two days ago from a nightmare.

A nightmare about Prim. Prim, her darling sister. Her dead, darling sister.

She's not even sure if she's slept in the past two days, just stared out the window listlessly, thinking about Prim. Prim, whom she nearly let starve to death. Prim, whom she saved from the games but practically abandoned afterward, too consumed with her own miseries and problems to spend as much time with her as she should have. Prim, who died in a war started by her wayward sister, incinerated in a bomb.

Prim, the girl on fire.

Katniss can't even cry or rage outwardly. It takes too much energy, so she directs her grief inward, replaying the many ways she failed her sister over and over again, refusing to move or eat in order to punish herself for the harm she caused the one person she had wanted to protect more than anyone.

On the first day, she hears people coming and going from her house. First, Greasy Sae and her granddaughter, to make her breakfast that she won't come down for. Sae doesn't bother her about it, though; she always leaves the food out for Katniss to eat at her leisure, whenever she decides that is.

Eventually, she hears the heavy tread of Peeta's artificial leg, joining them for breakfast as has been his routine for some time now. She hears muffled voices as he and Sae converse, and then after a while, the house is silent again. It's late evening before she hears Peeta enter her house again. She can hear his steps on the staircase, and then her door creaks open cautiously.

"Katniss?" he asks in a hushed tone, but she doesn't move, staring out the window, keeping her back to him. "I thought you might want to work on the memory book today." She still doesn't respond, and finally he sighs in resignation. "Okay. There's food downstairs for you whenever you're ready to eat." He pauses. "You should eat. Soon." His voice is pleading. But she doesn't want to eat; she doesn't want to eat because Prim can't eat, and why should she get to satiate herself on food when her dead sister can't?

Peeta leaves again, but he's back the next morning with Sae, as usual. She can hear them talking for a bit, and she can even hear childlike laughter from Sae's granddaughter at one point. Finally, Sae and her granddaughter leave, but she knows Peeta hangs back. She can sense him, even when she can't hear him. Soon, she hears him on the stairs, and he's pushing her door open. "Katniss, do you want anything to eat?" She doesn't answer, and she can hear his finger tapping on the door as he thinks. "I'm going to work on the memory book today," he says, changing the conversation. "I'm going to work downstairs. If you don't mind. I thought I'd try to draw the tributes from the Quarter Quell today. Like Finnick. If I can remember, anyway…"

She knows he's trying to provoke her into responding, into doing _anything _besides lying here lifelessly, but she doesn't want to think about Finnick right now, and the gaping red smile of his throat when those mutts slashed him open.

Peeta sighs quietly and retreats back downstairs. Katniss doesn't hear him for a while, but she knows he's in the living room, drawing; he always does what he says. She watches the sky change colors as the sun makes its long trek from east to west. Every now and then, she hears Peeta move around the house, the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom. It's nighttime before she's cognizant of it, her bedroom illuminated only by the dim moonlight. Once again, Peeta climbs the stairs. When he pushes the door open, the hallway light fills her room, and she squints slightly against the invasion.

"I brought you some food," he announces, his voice firmer than it was previously. "I'm going to leave it on your nightstand, so you don't have to go downstairs." This time he enters her room, and she feels him at her back as he pauses beside her bed to set the plate of food down. "Please eat something, Katniss. Please. It's been two days."

She wants to tell him that she knows, she knows it's been two days, because that was the last time she had slept, before she woke up from her nightmare about Prim. Instead, she says, "I'm not hungry." Her voice cracks from disuse, and it's barely audible. But she knows he hears her because she can sense when he jerks slightly, having not expected her to speak. She hadn't expected to either.

"Maybe you don't feel hungry, but I know you are," he says softly. He hesitates before he gingerly sits down on the edge of her bed, and she can feel his eyes on the back of her head. Finally, he speaks again, "I know why you're doing this, why you feel this way." _Do you?_ she wants to ask him because she doesn't think he does, doesn't know what she dreamt about, the grief and heartbreak she feels over her sister. "But you can't keep punishing yourself. She wouldn't want you to do this to yourself."

Her blood runs hot at his words, and she wants to rage at him for daring to speak about her sister, but the flash of anger flickers out quickly as her body deflates from the brief rush of adrenaline. She lets out a shuddering breath and closes her eyes. Neither of them speak for a moment until Peeta sighs quietly. "I'm going to head back home now, but I'll be back in the morning."

He starts to stand, but what she says next stops him cold. "Stay."

"You…want me to stay?" he repeats, surprised. She nods. "Okay, I can do that. I'll be downstairs on the couch."

This time, when he starts to stand, she rolls over to face him and reaches out a hand to grasp at his fingers. He freezes, looking at their hands in shock. "No. Stay here. Stay with me," she says, looking at his face. For the first time, she can see the dark circles under his eyes, the weariness heavy on his face. She realizes she's not the only one who hasn't slept in a while.

"In your bed?" he whispers, sounding scared. She nods again, still holding his hand in hers. Peeta licks his lips apprehensively. "I don't…I don't know if that's safe. What if—what if I have an attack? I could hurt you, I don't—"

"I trust you," she says, and she says it before she can even think it, and she realizes how true it is. She trusts him more than anyone. "I trust you with my life," she asserts, like it's the simplest thing in the world.

His eyes soften, but he's still unsure, so she tugs on his hand, shifting over to allow him room. He slides in next to her under the covers, and once he lies down, she turns back onto her other side, pulling his arm around her so he is pressed against her back. His body is stiff, as if he doesn't quite trust himself, so she tucks his hand against her stomach, her eyes drifting closed. "I'm so tired," she sighs, and she really is, the full weight of the past two days finally hitting her. Both of them could use some sleep, and she knows, from nights spent on the train during the Victory Tour, they sleep better next to each other.

When her eyes open again, the faint luminescence of dawn lights her bedroom. She can feel Peeta's steady breathing on her neck, letting her know he's still asleep. Katniss blinks the grit of sleep from her eyes, and she tries to recall her dreams. She can't. Her head feels clear for the first time in two days. Feeling relaxed, Katniss shifts onto her back and then sits up. Peeta stirs, and after a moment, he pulls his arm back from her stomach and squints up at her. "Katniss?" he asks, his voice thick with sleep.

Her eyes flit around the room curiously before settling on his pillow-creased face. They stare at each other silently until, finally, she breaks the trance. "I'm hungry," she says, and after a stunned moment, Peeta's lips twitch in amusement. He sits up, grabbing a roll from the plate on her nightstand, and he offers it to her. He watches her eat it, and when she finishes, he slides out of bed.

"Let me make you something fresh to eat," he says, picking up the plate to take downstairs. Before he leaves, he smiles at her, and she finds her mouth returning it, though the motion feels odd.

After that night, Katniss never has to face her nightmares alone again.


	4. Chapter 4

The tub of paint smacks against the wall, streaking red across the already color-stained palette. Peeta considers the splatter, then he picks up another small tub of paint, orange this time, and heaves it against the wall. It makes a satisfying thump, leaving an arc of color.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The question startles him, and he whirls around to find Katniss standing in the hall, peering into the room from the doorway with her hands on her hips. Always the stealthy hunter.

"Therapy," he offers simply. She raises an eyebrow, not following. Peeta snatches up another tub of paint—yellow—and flings it at the wall. The thump it makes causes Katniss to jump slightly, and the paint splatters in an interesting pattern on top of the other colors. "I discovered it by accident one day, but I realized, if you can believe it, throwing paint actually makes me feel better. The doc said, hey, whatever works. It would be a spectacular waste of resources otherwise, but he sends me new paints every few weeks and writes it off as part of my treatment. Brilliant, huh?"

"If you say so," she says, clearly not agreeing. She steps further into the room to appraise his "artwork." "So Dr. Aurelius told you to destroy your painting room?"

"Destroying? Or decorating?" His lips twist into a crooked smile. "It helps work out some of the anger and frustration when I can't get the paintbrush to do what I want," Peeta elaborates. Pursing her lips, she nods. "Want to try it?"

She looks uncertain. "Um, no. I'll leave the painting to you."

"You sure?" Peeta squats down to pick up a fat paint brush, and he dips it in some green paint. With the bristles dripping, he steps closer to the wall and quickly flings it in a wide arc, spraying drops of green on top of the yellow. Turning back to her, he holds the brush out to her and smiles. But when she shakes her head firmly, he narrows his eyes playfully and swipes the tips of the bristles across her nose, leaving a green streak.

Katniss jerks her head back, her mouth falling open and her eyes widening in protest. She quickly wipes at the paint but only manages to smear it across her cheek. "You—"

He just shrugs, grinning impishly. "I didn't want to be the only one covered in paint," he says innocently. He already has flecks of paint on his face and bare chest, and his fingers are caked in dried paint. Fuming, she yanks the paintbrush from his hand and paints a long streak down his torso. He laughs and twists away from her, bending down to dip his fingers into a nearby can of blue. When he flicks some at her, she squeals and shields her face with her hands, but then she mimics his actions, scooping up some nearby purple paint and swiping it across his forearm.

Suddenly, Peeta grabs her wrist to pull her close, and she tries to resist. "What are you—"

"Come here, I'm going to paint your face," he says and laughs when she scrunches her forehead in annoyance and defiance. "Haven't you heard of face painting? I'm just gonna draw something." He uses his paint-covered finger to doodle on her cheek, and she wrinkles her nose at the cool feeling. After a moment, he lets her go and grins proudly. "There. I drew a squirrel."

Rolling her eyes, Katniss pushes her hair out of her face that has fallen loose from her braid. "Do you want to work on the memory book? That's what I originally came to ask before you started flinging paint like a child," she says peevishly, but he can hear the amusement in her voice.

"If you want me to come over to your house, you should probably clean yourself up," he suggests, deadpanned, and her nostrils flare. Before she can respond, Peeta grabs her by her thighs and hoists her over his shoulder.

"Peeta! What are you doing?" she cries, hanging over his back upside down as he bounds out of the room and down the stairs.

"I'm just helping you to your house," he replies, trying not to laugh. "This will go much easier if you stop struggling." She weakly punches at his back as he walks out of his house down the front steps and trots across the front yard.

"I'm perfectly capable of walking my own damn self into my house," she snaps, but he shrugs.

"This is more fun." He can feel her fingers skimming across his lower back, and he laughs. "Stop, that tickles. I might drop you." She pokes his side sharply, and he nearly stumbles. "Ow! I'm definitely going to drop you if you do that."

"Oh, hell, can you damn kids take your foreplay inside the house?"

Peeta is so absorbed in watching the ground to make sure he doesn't trip, he didn't even notice Haymitch sitting out on the front porch of his own house. He nurses a glass of clear liquid, which Peeta guesses to be vodka. Or gin.

Katniss shoots Haymitch the middle finger from her upside down position, and Peeta just laughs, offering a wave as he climbs the stairs to Katniss' house. Once he has her in her upstairs bathroom, he sets her down, and she wobbles as she steps back to shoot him a glare. "What, are you going to actually put me in the shower?"

He shrugs, still smiling. "I don't know. Do you need me to help you get undressed too?" he asks cheekily, and she shoves him out of the bathroom, slamming the door in his face.

"BYE!" she yells through the door, and he hears the shower start.

"I'll be back later!" he calls back, still laughing as he turns to leave. Haymitch is still on his porch, nursing his drink, when Peeta emerges from the house.

"Oi! Finished so soon, kid?" Haymitch asks loudly, and this time Peeta gives him the middle finger. Haymitch raises his glass in reciprocation, then chugs it. Peeta thinks he hears him grumble something about "horny kids." He's probably not far off; Peeta did enjoy feeling the soft skin of her thighs under his hands as he held her and the feeling of her breasts bouncing against his back, but he tries to immediately quash those thoughts as inappropriate.

When he's in his own bathroom removing his pants to take a shower, he feels the itchy sensation of drying paint on his lower back. He rubs his hand across his back, and his fingers come back purple. Peeta smirks; Katniss must have smeared paint on his back. Turning to check the damage in a mirror, he pulls up shortly.

It's a purple, upside down heart.

His heart starts pounding, and he can hear blood rushing in his ears. Feeling a sudden wave of dizziness, he leans his forehead against the bathroom wall. He's almost afraid he's having an attack, but a minute passes, then another, and he's still conscious and coherent; he realizes he's not scared or angry. He's not sure what he's feeling, but it shakes him to his core.

Trembling all over, Peeta forces a deep breath and licks his dry lips. He steps into the running water and takes his shower. When he's done, he puts on fresh clothes and heads back to Katniss' house. They work on the memory book for a few hours like normal, and when they're finished for the night, they crawl into her bed to sleep. He doesn't mention or ask about the heart.

But he doesn't wash it off for a few days either.


	5. Chapter 5

_She can feel the hot pebbly sand digging into her back, can hear and smell the sea lapping at the shore. But more so, she can taste Peeta in her mouth as his tongue snakes around hers in a desperate kiss. They're back on the beach in the Quarter Quell, but as their embrace smolders, their touches getting more frantic and exploratory, the molten hunger in her belly consuming all her other senses, Katniss realizes there is no Finnick, no lightning strike to break the moment this time. She knows what's about to happen, what the prying eyes of Panem are about to witness, but she can't seem to disentangle herself from him. Instead, she wraps her arms and legs around him tighter, gasping against his mouth when she feels his naked body press against hers._

"_Peeta, Peeta," she whispers, grabbing at his hair, begging him to understand. "I want…I want…"_

_He seems to get it because he grips her hips tightly and, without hesitation, sinks into her. Katniss groans with pleasure, and Peeta quickly establishes a rhythm, pumping in and out of her as she bucks her hips up to meet his. She's so close, already almost there…_

"_Katniss," he murmurs. "Katniss?" he asks in confusion. "Katniss," his voice is louder, urgent, but the tone is incongruent with the blissful look on his face._

"Katniss!"

She stirs, squinting in the darkness. Her eyes find Peeta's face, which hovers above her. His expression is one of concern, not pleasure.

She looks around her, confused, and realizes her heart is racing. She can feel a distinct throbbing in her core, and the recollection of her dream sends a jolt of shock through her body.

"You okay?" he asks softly.

Her face flushes in embarrassment—and desire. Looking at his face, she feels the throbbing between her legs intensify. "Y-yes, sorry."

He furrows his eyebrows though, giving her a funny look. "Were you having a nightmare? I wasn't sure…You were shifting around a lot and whimpering, kind of, but it didn't seem as bad as usual. I thought I should wake you to be safe."

She can't possibly tell him what she was really dreaming about. "Yes, I guess—I mean, it wasn't a nightmare, I guess. Just—just a weird dream. I'm, I'm fine," she says, swallowing and looking at anything but him.

"Okay," he says with a smile and lays back down next to her. "Let's go back to sleep then."

Katniss curls up on her side, facing away from him. He turns toward her but doesn't move closer. Closing her eyes, she bites down on her lip and tries not to think about her dream and her arousal, failing miserably. She squeezes her thighs together, hoping to relieve the pressure, but it only exacerbates the problem. She stifles a moan, but she begins to shift her hips experimentally, her legs clamped together tightly, and maybe, maybe—

She's startled when Peeta touches her arm suddenly, and she tenses up, holding her breath out of fear. Did he notice what she was doing? She keeps her eyes closed and stays frozen, hoping he hasn't seen her movements or understood what she was trying to do.

"Katniss?" he murmurs so quietly she almost doesn't hear him. She purses her lips, mortified. He saw.

When she doesn't respond, he scoots closer to her, his chest pressed against her back. Neither of them move for what feels like an eternity to Katniss, and she begins to think that he's fallen back asleep, that maybe he didn't see what she was doing after all, but then he moves his hand under the sheets, sliding it down her hip to her thigh left bare by her shifting nightshirt. Her eyes snap open, but she only stares at the wall, wondering what he's planning to do. When his hand slips to the juncture of her thighs, she exhales the breath she didn't know she was holding.

Still, neither of them speaks. Peeta stills his hand, seeming to wait for—for what? Permission? Swallowing thickly, Katniss lifts her leg just slightly, acquiescing to his silent request. Wordlessly, he cups her sex, shielded by her thin cotton underwear, but her mouth falls open at the contact regardless. Some kind of sound gets stuck in her throat, but she thinks that's for the best, that she would have been humiliated if he would have heard it.

Slowly, delicately, Peeta begins to rub his fingers back and forth, testing her reactions. She shuts her eyes but angles her pelvis in an attempt to force his fingers to where she desperately needs pressure, right—there. She muffles a moan with her fist, but Peeta catches the sound and refocuses his ministrations on the spot she indicated. For a few moments, she loses herself in the sensations budding between her legs, and all she can hear is the sheets rustling and her heavy breathing. Or is that his heavy breathing? Probably both. She can feel his chest rising and falling rapidly against her back.

Hearing a change in her panting, Peeta increases the pressure of his movements, his fingers moving faster. Suddenly, Katniss feels the heat snap between her thighs, engulfing the entirety of her body and arching her back as she lets out a strangled and loudly embarrassing groan, caught unprepared by her release. Her legs clamp shut around his hand, trapping him there as she rides out her orgasm.

As she comes back to her senses, she becomes aware of his hot breath on her neck. And his hardness against her backside. His hand is still buried between her legs; she involuntarily parts them, and he retracts his arm, tenderly smoothing down her shirt so it covers her panties, which, she realizes for the first time, are incredibly damp. He lightly grips her hip, and that's where his hand comes to rest.

The silence stretches for an uncomfortable minute, and Katniss struggles with what to say. Should she even say anything? Sorely unpracticed in this area, she continues to stare at the wall, dazed. She feels unfathomably relaxed all of a sudden, and her eyelids start to droop.

Finally, Peeta presses a soft kiss to her shoulder and whispers, "You can go to sleep now, Katniss." He squeezes her hip reassuringly, and before she can think any more about what has just happened, Katniss drifts off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

When she wakes up again, it's light out. She can sense Peeta's absence before she sees it, rolling over to look around the room. The neat pile of clothes that he carefully arranges on the armchair in the corner of the room as he gets ready for bed every night is gone. He is definitely not still in her house then; she couldn't hear or sense his movements anywhere.

Katniss feels her chest seize with momentary panic. Did he leave because of last night? Is he angry? Disgusted? She sits up and hastily wraps the sheet around her form before she exits her bedroom and descends the staircase, the steps creaking. She glances around the living room and then rushes into the kitchen, pulling up short when she notices a note on the kitchen table.

Hesitantly, she snatches it up and holds her breath as she reads it.

_Katniss,_

_I've gone to get started on my baking for the day. Wanted to let you sleep a little longer. I'll be back by later. Hope you have a good day._

–_P_

She chews her lip thoughtfully. Well, he sounds fine, at least. Now that she is reassured about his feelings, she begins to question her own. Should she be embarrassed? Her face heats up at the thought of how his hand touched her last night. Why did he do that? How is she supposed to act around him now?

She feels tired suddenly, consumed with thoughts of how she should or shouldn't feel. She's never known how to act around Peeta, but she realizes she does better with him when she doesn't try to act one way or another. So she decides not to think about it.

Forgoing a trip to the woods, Katniss shuffles out into the living room and curls up on the couch under her sheet. She spends the rest of the day, dozing off and on, getting up periodically to pick at some food in the kitchen. She starts a fire in the afternoon and naps in front of it for another hour or so before she stays awake for good, staring up at the ceiling, lost in her thoughts. By late afternoon, she starts wondering where Peeta is. He usually eats lunch with her. By evening, she is convinced he must be disgusted with her, or maybe with himself. She tries to eat a little bit of leftover meat pie for dinner, but every bite sits heavily in her stomach.

Finally, she puts the rest of it back in the fridge and slumps down into the couch again for a little while, watching the flames in the fireplace flicker until they slowly die out. It's completely dark outside now. Regardless of Peeta's feelings about last night, she can't believe he wouldn't have stopped by at some point. He even said he would in his note. If anyone should be pissed about what happened, it should be her! She is the one who is humiliated.

Flying off the couch, Katniss perches herself in the window and peeks through the curtains to look at his house. The lights are on downstairs; he is definitely there. Could he really be angry with her? She wonders. Chewing on her lip, she makes up her mind. Still in just her night shirt, she grabs her sheet from the couch and wraps it around her, unconcerned about running into anybody else, then she darts out of her house and across the way to his house, barefoot.

She hesitates on his doorstep and opens the door carefully, finding it unlocked. She creeps into the house but halts in her tracks when she finds his form slumped over his knees in a kitchen chair. Sensing her, he lifts his head up from his hands.

"Peeta—" she starts, noticing how puffy his eyes look. His cheeks look sticky from dried tears. Oh no, he is upset about what they did last night. "I—I was…worried."

He clears his throat, wiping his hands on his pants, but he stays seated, propping his elbows on his knees again. "I'm sorry, Katniss," he says, his voice gravelly, but it didn't sound like he had been crying recently. "I…I'm afraid I had an episode earlier." He looks around the kitchen uncomfortably, and she notices for the first time a couple of broken plates and some baking items scattered on the floor.

"Oh." Had she caused it? Guilt washes over her. "What happened?"

He cringes. "I'm not…too sure, honestly. I was out making some deliveries, and I came back to make some lunch this afternoon, and…I was thinking about my dad, my family. I'm not sure how long the—attack lasted, but I guess I passed out in the kitchen for a couple hours. When I came to…I've just been too scared of myself to leave the house."

Her chest constricts painfully as she stares at him, unsure of what to say. She stays inside all day sometimes because she's too scared to face anyone, but he confines himself because he's too scared of what he'll do when he sees someone.

What a pair they make.

Tightening the sheets around herself, she takes a few steps toward him and then stops. "Did you ever eat anything?" He shakes his head, so she holds her hand out to him, wanting him to understand that she's not scared of him or anything he could potentially do to her. "Let's go back to my place then."

He eyes her outstretched hand warily and then glances up at her face. "Katniss," he starts, licking his lips nervously. "I need to know—I need to know that I didn't cross some kind of line last night."

There it is. Her hand drops, and her face heats up considerably, and she's sure he can see her blush. But she forces herself to maintain eye contact with him, and she only hesitates a moment before she replies resolutely, "No."

He sighs, clearly relieved as he closes his eyes. "Okay."

When he stands up before her, she feels compelled to continue. "Peeta," her voice falters, but she rushes ahead, "I liked…what you did."

This time he's the one blushing, his cheeks just ever so slightly reddening. "Me too."

"I had a dream…that dream I had, that you woke me from," she stops awkwardly, struggling for the right words to explain it. "I dreamt that you and I…we were on the beach in the Quarter Quell. When we kissed…" She gives him an imploring look. "Do you remember?"

He shuts his eyes again, his face stretched in a grimace, but she can see his eyes moving behind his eyelids, as if he is trying to sort through the memories and who knows what other images the Capitol had put in his mind. Finally, he lets out a puff of air and looks at her. "Yes," he says softly, almost in wonderment. "That kiss…you felt it too. Real or not real?"

She nods, and his eyes shine in—what? Happiness? Relief? She's not sure, but she takes his hand and turns to lead him back to her house, but he tugs, pulling her to a stop. She glances at him quizzically, but he has an odd look on his face.

"So what happened in your dream exactly?" he asks, and her breath catches in her throat. Is he really going to make her spell it out for him?

She's not sure her face can get any redder. "Peeta, I—we had sex," she says bluntly, not missing the way her voice squeaks on the last word.

He stares at her strangely though, his fingers tightening around her palm. "That didn't happen though, right? In the games, I mean, for real."

"No!" she blurts in horror, but she realizes how that sounds, so she tries to clarify. "I mean, I wouldn't—couldn't—in front of people? Cameras? No."

He smiles suddenly and actually laughs. "No, of course not. Can you imagine what kind of sponsors and gifts we would have gotten, though, if we had?"

An indignant laugh catches in her throat as she watches the mirth crinkle his face, and she scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Whatever," she mutters, walking out of his house with him on her heels. "Let's get you something to eat already." Her cheeks are still on fire when they reach her house.


	7. Chapter 7

_AN: It's going to get pretty smutty the next couple chapters or so. I'll try to write more plot-centric chapters, but for some reason my mind kind of devolves into smut when it comes to Everlark. :) _

* * *

Back in her kitchen, Katniss sits him down and stands over him while he eats the last of the pie she couldn't finish earlier. When they retreat to her bed for the night, as they have done every night for the past few weeks, she feels more aware of his presence than she did that first night he climbed in beside her. He's tense though, she can sense it in the lines of his body, and he doesn't touch her at first; she thinks he must be weary still from his episode.

So she kisses him. They've only kissed a handful of times since their return to Twelve, and he always initiated them, always at night to comfort her after she had torn her way out of another nightmare, trembling and gasping.

Tonight, she figures he could use the comforting. As she leans over him, she keeps her lips pressed to his, looking at his wide eyes through her lashes until he slowly closes them. Experimentally, she molds her lips to his bottom lip, gently pulling it into her mouth. With his lips parted, she covers his open mouth with hers and sweeps her tongue in. Peeta reacts reflexively, brushing his tongue alongside hers, and then into her mouth. His hand comes up to rest on her head, weaving through her undone hair to hold her in place. He kisses her greedily, making her fingers curl into his shirt. Drawing her into his arms, he rolls her onto her back. Peeta breaks the kiss and hovers above her face, their noses just barely grazing. His pupils are large, his eyes dark with lust.

"Do you want me to…?" he asks, trailing off. Katniss is confused until his hand inches lower down her stomach. He raises his eyebrows questioningly. "I will. I want to."

"Oh," she breathes. Just the thought makes her throb, moisture starting to pool between her legs. Her embarrassment from last night is already a fading memory, and she licks her lips, emboldened by desire. "Okay. Yes."

It doesn't take long for his fingers to bring her to an orgasm, and he kisses her wetly, swallowing her moans.

The next night, he does it again. And the night after that. The fourth night he slips his hand beneath her underwear, his fingers sliding between her folds. The fifth night he pushes her shirt up to touch her breasts, and as he stares hungrily at her chest, for the first time, she's not concerned or self-conscious about her scars. When he sucks her nipple into his mouth, her body involuntarily arches off the bed.

And when she doesn't think it can feel any better, on the sixth night he pushes his thick fingers inside her, sliding in and out carefully. Her legs fall open, bent at the knees, and her hands grapple at his shoulders, trying to hold on as she unfurls beneath him with a shout.

It's not until that night that it dawns on her what he's doing when he quietly slips out of bed after she settles down each night, disappearing into the bathroom for a few minutes before he crawls back into bed, giving her a small smile and kissing her temple. She's chagrinned at her own naiveté. Peeta wasn't that far off about her being pure, after all. She's determined to rectify the situation, so the next night, when he finally withdraws his hand from her underwear and moves to get out of bed, she grabs his arm, holding him down.

"Stay," she whispers, fixing him with a pointed look. He's bewildered, but he lies back down, staring up at her. She's silent for a beat, her eyes sweeping down his neck and his broad, exposed chest marked with burn scars to match hers, over his firm stomach, to the bulge in his shorts. When she meets his gaze again, his eyes fill with understanding.

Katniss places a kiss below his sternum; she can practically feel the nerves buzzing under his skin. His heart flutters under her lips. She glances at his face one more time before her eyes roam back down to his waist. Her fingers follow her gaze, trailing over his stomach and causing his abdomen to clench under her feathery touch. She toys with his waistband nervously before she forges ahead, tugging his shorts down to his hips and freeing his member from its constriction. It stands straight up, and she allows herself a moment to take it in, something she was too scared to do in the first games. And although he was more vulnerable then than he is now, she thinks, can sense, he's more anxious this time for her to see him too.

Swallowing her uncertainty, Katniss reaches out and wraps her fingers around his length. The thickness makes her hand look small, but Peeta lets out a quiet "Oh," and she grips him a little tighter. She's not entirely sure what to do, but on instinct, she begins to move her hand up and down, the silky flesh sliding against her palm. He groans, his hands fisting on top of the sheets.

She looks up at him; his eyes are shut, his mouth parted slightly as he pants. "Peeta," she says softly. "What should I do? What do you like?"

He cracks his eyes open, his nostrils flaring. "Whatever—whatever you want, whatever you're doing, it's fine," he stutters, closing his eyes again.

"Peeta," she presses more urgently, her hand moving sporadically as she loses her concentration. "I have no idea what I'm doing. Please."

He inhales deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. But when he looks at her, he smiles. "It feels like you know what you're doing to me." He touches her cheek. "Keep doing what you're doing, just—a little harder, if you want. Fast or slow, it doesn't matter right now. And," he wraps his hand around hers and drags it up so her fingers catch on the head, causing him to hiss, "move your hand up a little higher, like that."

She tries it a couple times on her own, and Peeta lets his hand fall back to the bed. His breathing is heavier, and he makes tiny grunts here and there. Katniss kisses his chest again and then sits up, propping herself on her free hand to give herself more leverage. She watches her hand as it glides up and down his stiff member, the tip glistening. She's not sure it's possible, but his shaft feels even harder than when she first touched it.

Her arm starts to ache, but she's determined to return the pleasure he's given her so selflessly all these nights. She notices his moans getting more frequent, and his hips are rocking slightly, so she tightens her fist even more, pumping faster. Peeta begins to moan louder, and a moment later, he grunts, "Katniss—" His hand wraps around hers again, and he angles his member up toward his chest. Fascinated, she watches as he spills his semen on his lower belly, groaning loudly.

Feeling curious, Katniss unwraps her hand from his softening member and touches her fingers hesitantly to the warm fluid on his stomach. He catches her eye and smiles sheepishly. "I should go clean up," he says, sitting up on his elbows.

She quirks an eyebrow. "Do you want me to…do it again?" she asks innocently. His eyes widen, and he chuckles lightly.

"Um, I need a minute or two to recover, actually," he says, pulling his shorts back up. "I'll be right back."

When he pads into the bathroom, she stretches back out on the bed, her head hitting the pillow. She thinks about the face he made when he came, and she smiles to herself. His moans had made her core ache, but she was starting to feel relaxed and sleepy, the exhaustion quelling her arousal.

Peeta reappears from the bathroom and slides back into bed beside her, curling around her back. He kisses behind her ear and whispers, "Thank you."

She gives him a dubious look over her shoulder, then twists in his arms so she's face to face with him. With a smirk, she replies teasingly, "Well, I figured I owed you."

His eyes narrow, but he notices her mocking grin. He wraps his arms around her tightly, crushing her breasts against his chest. "If that's the case, then I'd say you owe me more than just one handy," he jokes, but his voice is husky.

Katniss laughs. "I offered, didn't I?"

He nuzzles her neck. "Well, I'll just bank these favors for later then, how 'bout that?" She just nods, closing her eyes as his hot breath fans across her collarbone. They're both silent for a few minutes, lulled by each other's breathing. "Good night, Katniss," he says quietly, still holding her to him.

"Night, Peeta," she sighs, feeling her whole body relax, pulling her into a deep sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

They spend a few more nights exploring each other's bodies. He's kneeling between her legs one night, three of his fingers buried to the hilt inside her as he places hot, sloppy kisses on her stomach and breasts, when she wonders how it would feel if it were his cock instead of his fingers, pumping in and out of her. He rubs at her clit vigorously, and her body seizes up as pleasure surges through her.

Pulling him up to her face for a kiss, Katniss wraps her hand around his, which is already tugging rapidly at his shaft, and she helps bring him to orgasm. He moans into her mouth, spurting his semen across her belly. Their kiss becomes slower, more languid, as their bodies unwind. Pulling his shorts back up, he whispers that he'll be back, and as she watches his form disappear into the bathroom, she wonders about pushing their physical relationship to the next level. Are they ready for that? She couldn't imagine it would be much more intense than what they have already been doing.

Somehow, though, she knows he isn't going to initiate it. She is going to have to take the next step. Is she ready? She feels like she is. His hands and his fingers are nice, wonderful, but she craves something more, something primal.

Looking over his body when he crawls back into bed with a smile and a damp washcloth to clean her off, she knows; she wants this man, all of him. Now, how to make him understand that?

* * *

The next night, she awakes from a nightmare. She's almost surprised—the past few nights had been relatively dreamless and undisturbed—but she knows she can't keep the demons at bay forever with just orgasms and bodily pleasure.

She must have been thrashing in her sleep because when she comes to, Peeta has her arms pinned to her side. A scream catches in her throat, and he must see the wild terror in her eyes because he hastily scoops her up, cradling her in his lap as he ensconces her in his arms, smoothing his hand over her hair and whispering soothingly.

"It's okay, it's okay, you're safe, it was just a dream…"

Her heart is in her throat, and she gulps down air, trying to steady her trembling limbs. She buries her head against his shoulder, and she swallows painfully, her mouth dry. Peeta starts rocking her slowly.

"I killed those people," she gasps. "That boy in the first games, Marvel, and that woman in the Capitol, she wasn't even doing anything. I don't even know her name. They were pleading for their lives, but I shot them, and I just kept stabbing them over and over again with my arrows. What did I do…?"

"Not real, Katniss. That didn't happen."

She shakes her head, clearing the cobwebs of her nightmare. "Maybe not exactly—but I still killed them. Without a thought. What kind of person does that?"

"Someone who's fighting a war, trying to survive," he urges quietly, palming the back of her head. "We all did things we regret, but—no one comes out clean in a war, Katniss. We just have to live with it sometimes and…try to atone. But, I promise you, you're a good person. I know you."

Katniss clutches at his shoulders, digesting his words. She's not sure she believes him; she hasn't been a good person since…had she ever been a good person? She is a survivor, has been since her father's death. Good or bad, right or wrong don't factor into her decisions on how to survive, really. There are only good and bad consequences to her selfish actions.

No, the only person she knows to be good is Peeta. Sweet, compassionate Peeta Mellark, who does things because they are the right thing to do, not because they benefited him in some way. Even his badness isn't really his own, just another Capitol manipulation. And he has overcome it, mostly. Could someone as good as him love someone as rotten as she thinks herself to be? Has she manipulated him into caring about her, seeing someone or something that isn't really there? No, she knows she isn't that good of a liar. Peeta sees something, something she couldn't, but she trusts him to be honest and open with her.

They are silent for a while, and she feels his hands running through her hair, twisting and untwisting locks into a loose braid. She sighs, nuzzling his shoulder. "I'm okay," she croaks finally.

He nods in agreement. "You're okay."

"Thank you."

He just kisses the side of her head. She moves her hands from his shoulders, skimming them down his ribs before encircling his torso to hug him tightly. His skin is warm against her cheek and her palms. She shifts so she's straddling him, her chest pressed to his. Peeta untangles his hands from her hair and rubs her back reassuringly.

Katniss inhales the scent of his skin deeply. He smells like soap, but underneath that, he smells of bread and sugar and some kind of spice she can't decipher, as if he can't quite wash off the ingredients he works with. Opening her mouth over his shoulder, she laves her tongue over his skin to see if he tastes like he smells; he tastes salty and clean.

Peeta stiffens, but he doesn't say anything. She continues to suck on his skin, reveling in his taste. Her fingers are splayed over the muscles of his back, and she trails her tongue up the curve of his neck to his jaw line. Katniss then kisses her way to his ear lobe, sucking it into her mouth. Here, Peeta finally stirs, his arms falling to her hips to bear her closer; his responding erection presses to her middle, and it causes her to buck against him. She muffles her moan against his neck, and he inhales sharply in her ear.

His hands move under her shirt and up along her spine as hers slide back to his front. They snake up his chest to bracket his face as she pulls back to meld her mouth against his. His lidded eyes are staring at her but close almost instantly when she sweeps her tongue against his.

Her hips start rocking mindlessly against his, rubbing back and forth along his hardness. A delicious heat is settling between her legs, and she gasps for air between kisses. Katniss tugs on his hair, and he slides his palms to her stomach, pushing her shirt up to expose her breasts, and then he hugs her, crushing her breasts to his chest. They both groan at the feel of her stiff nipples dragging across his exposed skin.

Peeta shifts, and she can sense that he wants to roll her onto her back. But she doesn't want their activities to follow the course of their usual nightly routines; she wants more from him. She breaks their kiss and quickly yanks her shirt over her head.

Her action surprises him; although he's seen her breasts, she's never removed her top completely, and never while sitting above him. She can see him swallow in the dark, and she leans forward to suck his bottom lip into her mouth. His warm breath skims over the bow of her top lip as he exhales through his nose shakily.

"I guess you're feeling better," he murmurs into her mouth, and it's almost a question, but there's a glint in his eyes. His movements have ceased, as if he's unsure what he should do or what she wants him to do, so he just holds her loosely about the waist.

Nodding, Katniss skims her fingertips down his sides and loops them into his shorts. She only hesitates a moment before she tugs at the waistband. Peeta tries to lift his hips to assist her, but with her perched atop him, he can't get enough leverage, so he lies back down and holds his hips up so she can pull his shorts off all the way. Her eyes linger on his artificial leg that he's left on, that he always sleeps with, and she briefly wonders if he's too self-conscious around her to take it off. Or maybe, she muses, given their recent nighttime activities and his frequent trips into the bathroom, he leaves it on out of necessity.

Free from its constraints, Peeta's cock strains upward, impossibly hard, and she swallows the saliva starting to collect in her mouth in anticipation. Sensing his questioning eyes on her, Katniss sits back on her haunches and awkwardly shimmies out of her panties. When she drops them off the side of the bed, she hears Peeta make a funny sound, as if it's finally dawning on him what she plans to do.

She's on all fours now, hovering over him. He still hasn't moved yet, and she's almost too nervous to look at his face, afraid what she'll see in his eyes. He wants this too, doesn't he? Her fingers flicker over the head of his penis briefly, and she feels a mix of nerves and desire knot in her stomach. Suddenly, she's apprehensive; he's big, thick. She has a peripheral thought that this is probably supposed to hurt her some. She dips a hand between her legs to test her readiness, and her fingers come back slick with her want.

Placing her knees outside his legs, she crawls up his body some so his cock is aligned with her middle. She whimpers as the tip of his penis slides between her folds, and she finally looks at his face. His chest is undulating rapidly with his shallow breaths, as if he's nervous or scared—she's not sure—but he stares at her intently, a lusty, dumbfounded haze slackening his face.

"Peeta…" she whispers, searching his eyes, hoping he wants her as much as she wants him. Finally, his hands come up to her hips, and his fingertips dig into her flesh almost painfully. He gives her hips an almost imperceptive push, and she feels his head pressing at her entrance.

Bracing her hands on his stomach, Katniss sinks down, sheathing herself on his length; she can feel herself stretching to accommodate his girth, and her mouth falls open slowly until she settles down on top of him completely, her thighs spread widely over his. Peeta lets out a shuddering breath, but he thankfully remains still as she adjusts to the sensation of him filling her. It's not the painful feeling she was expecting, but it's an uncomfortable pinch.

She's not sure how long she sits there, but eventually, she lifts her hips and drops them again, slowly. She tries to mimic the movements Peeta likes when she uses her hands. The stretching is still uncomfortable but bearable, and she realizes quickly that she enjoys the feeling of him sliding in and out of her.

A strangled whimper pulls her attention to his face, and she notices Peeta's gaze is locked on where their bodies meet repeatedly. She leans over, so her hands are resting on either side of his head and her face is suspended over his. "Peeta," she breathes, tearing his eyes away from the joining of their bodies to look at her. The new angle stretches her torso too much, and she can't lift her hips off his without him sliding out all the way, so she buries his hardness inside her and tries rocking her hips back and forth over his in a slow grind. That feels good too, she thinks, closing her eyes.

"Peeta," she tries again breathlessly. "Do you like this?"

He whimpers again, his hands tightening around her hips. "Yes, Katniss."

Something seems wrong. She opens her eyes and frowns slightly. Her moves come more haltingly now, as she loses confidence. "You're not…moving…or anything," she whispers, gripped by an unexpected rush of insecurity and doubt.

Peeta's eyes widen in panic, and he brings a hand up to grip her scalp, tangling his fingers through her hair. The action is comforting. "Katniss, Katniss," he murmurs, his voice strained. "I—this is—you feel fucking amazing. I want this, I want to take you—I want to take you, _hard_, but I'm scared that, that I'll hurt you."

Hot desire peels through her body at his words, and she hums lustily. She splays her hand over his cheek and kisses him wetly, biting at his lips. "Do it then," she says against his mouth, her voice needy and demanding.

They lock eyes, understanding passing between them, and finally he moves, lifting his head to kiss her greedily, sucking on her lips, her tongue, whatever his mouth touches. He wraps his arms around her again and hastily maneuvers her onto her back so he's kneeling between her legs above her. The movement causes him to slip out of her, and she groans in disappointment, angling her pelvis up toward his again.

His hands smooth over her hips, pushing her down into the bed. Hovering over her chest, he pulls a taut nipple into his mouth and sucks on it. Katniss gasps, grabbing onto his hair as he licks around her breasts. She feels his cock pressing between her thighs again, and suddenly he pushes into her, without warning. Her second gasp catches in her throat, and when he thrusts again, it escapes as a moan.

Peeta holds himself up on his forearms, his mouth lingering around her breasts. "Is this okay?" he asks, grunting with effort as his movements speed up. She nods, focusing on the feel of his member pushing in and out of her, trying to chase the elusive pleasure arcing between her thighs. She bends her knees and tries to open her legs wider for him, and his hips are surging against hers, over and over, in a frenzied pace, but she can't match his rhythm, so she just clutches his shoulders, her breaths matching the timing of his muffled moans.

Suddenly, his hips jerk on top of her roughly, and he thrusts a few times before he stills altogether. He draws out a strained groan and then whispers her name repeatedly, like a prayer mumbled against her neck. She holds onto him, and she can feel his cock pulsing inside her. Katniss inhales shakily, her hands running through his now damp hair and over his sweat-slicked back, cradling him as he spends himself above her.

Quivering, Peeta lowers himself to rest on top of her, and she feels him slip out of her as he shifts his lower body. After a moment, he curses quietly, "Fuck."

His tone startles her. "What's wrong?"

He pulls back to look at her, his expression contrite. "That was too fast. I'm sorry."

She laughs breathlessly, smoothing the hair off his forehead. "Was it? I don't know."

"You didn't even—come, did you?" he asks, and when she shakes her head shyly, he grimaces sheepishly. "I'm sorry, it just felt too good. I couldn't…"

When he trails off, she traces her index finger over his brow line. "I thought it felt good, too." She offers him a reassuring smile, but his jaw sets in determination, and he captures her lips with his, kissing her passionately as he slips a hand between her thighs. Katniss gasps at the contact, still feeling sensitive and tender, but his fingers work single-mindedly to bring her back up to speed with the pleasure she had been chasing only moments before. Soon, her back is bowing under him with the sweet, exquisite release he brings her to.

She puffs wordlessly against his ear, relishing in the aftershocks of her orgasm. Peeta gazes down at her face, and then he kisses her forehead reverently, scooting down some to pillow his head on her breasts. She slips her fingers through his hair again to hold him there, comforted by the weight of his body pressing her down into the bed, grounding her.

He breaks the silence eventually. "I have thought about this for so long," he says quietly. "So long. But I don't know if I ever could have imagined…" She smiles up at the ceiling even though he can't see her. He falls silent for a moment but then speaks again, his voice raw, "Katniss…you love me. Real or not real?"

He's not looking at her still, as if he's afraid of her answer, and her chest constricts painfully. No, not her chest. Her heart. Sadness clenches her heart, and it hurts her that he even has to ask her, that she's ever misled him or made him question her, that she's made him doubt that she cares for him, and she's sad at the lingering fear she feels at finally being confronted with her feelings, that the depth of how much she can care for—_love_—someone still scares her.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she takes a shuddering breath and forges ahead. "Real."

He doesn't say anything, but she can feel a smile spread across his face against her breast.

* * *

Peeta's gone when she wakes up the next morning. She sits up in bed frantically, pulling the sheets up to cover her naked body, but just as she's opening her mouth to call for him, he pushes the bedroom door open, holding a plate of food and a glass. He's surprised when he sees her.

"Oh, damn, you're awake," he says in disappointment, sidling up beside the bed.

Katniss clears her throat, pushing her hair out of her face. "Yeah. Where'd you go?" she asks, though it's obvious by the food in his hand.

He grins at her and sits down on the bed, presenting the plate to her. There are scrambled eggs, nut bread smeared with jams and honey, and some blackberries. "I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed. We didn't have any trays though, so," he places a pillow over her lap and sets the plate on top of it, "here you go."

A bashful smile spreads across her face as she picks up the fork. "Thank you. What about you, though?"

"I snacked on stuff while I was cooking yours. I'm good." He sets the drink down on the nightstand, but when he looks back at her, he's still grinning.

She shovels the eggs into her mouth, suddenly feeling famished, but when she catches his look, she stops and swallows her mouthful. "You're certainly in a good mood."

The dimple in his cheek deepens. "Well, I had a good night last night with a wonderful woman." He pauses, then adds mischievously, "You should've been there."

She snorts with laughter and then, embarrassed, shoves him gently. "I feel sorry for that woman then." Biting into a piece of bread, she gives him a cheeky grin. Thinking about last night, she starts to feel warm all over.

Peeta presses a kiss to her temple, but when he pulls back, he looks pensive. "Katniss," he starts, playing with a lock of her hair while she continues to eat the bread. Making a stalling noise, he lets her hair go and drops his hand to the bed. "About last night…we didn't, you know, use…anything…for protection."

Startled, Katniss accidentally inhales a crumb and starts coughing violently. Peeta begins to pound her back, but she motions for the drink, so he hands it to her. She gulps it down—freshly squeezed orange juice, she notices—and coughs one more time to clear her airway.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to kill you, I promise," he jokes nervously, taking the cup from her and setting it back down. "I just, didn't think about it last night. I feel kind of foolish and thought we should discuss it."

"Peeta," she says, swallowing because her voice feels weak. "You—we—don't have to worry about that." He gives her a curious look, and she rolls a blackberry between her fingers, her cheeks feeling hot. "When I first got back to Twelve—well, a little after I got back here, I noticed my…menstrual cycles had, well, stopped. I talked to my mother, and she said it was probably because of stress and—everything. She sent me some shots to take every few months. It's birth control. She said it would help regulate my cycles. And, you know—help with other…stuff."

"Oh." She can feel Peeta's eyes burrowing into the side of her head as she pops some berries into her mouth. She feels a little uncomfortable talking about such personal details about her body and about the unspoken topic of children. He sighs heavily, but it sounds relieved. "Well, that's good, right?"

She just nods, stuffing some more food into her mouth to distract herself. They don't speak for a moment, but she can still feel his gaze. Finally, he says, "Katniss?" She hums in response. "I love you."

When she looks up in surprise, he smiles sweetly at her. She can't help but to smile back.


	9. Chapter 9

_AN: Thank you all for the reviews so far! I was going to hold off on publishing another chapter until I could write another not as smutty chapter, but, well, here you go anyway! I've been distracted by another story I started writing, an AU that I'm really excited about, so this story fell to the back burner. I'm not done with this story yet, but as there's no concrete narrative, I'm just posting when scenes come to me. Updates won't be as frequent, but I'll still try to update this one periodically. In the meantime, I'm almost finished with the AU I started and plan to post it soon, so keep an eye out for it! :) Thanks again for reading!_

* * *

Peeta's eyes snap open. He blinks slowly at the ceiling, squinting against the morning light. He can hear his heart thumping in his ears, his breath shallow. Swallowing thickly, Peeta loosens his grip on the bed sheets under him and forces himself to take a deep, ragged breath.

Lingering residuals of his nightmare flash through his mind, forcing his eyes closed again in pain. _Gale was laid out on the Everdeens' kitchen table, like after the whipping. But his groans were not distressed. He lay on his back as Katniss moved above him, her thighs splayed around his hips. They were both naked and glistening with sweat and exertion. Peeta could only watch from the kitchen entrance, and Katniss caught his eye, grinning wickedly before she arched in a moan. He watched her hands tighten around Gale's neck, her knuckles turning white with the force, and suddenly, it was like her hands were on his neck, like he couldn't breathe himself. He was choking._

Peeta grunts, rubbing his hand over his face roughly. Not real. Despite his fading terror, Peeta is aware of his erection. He curses himself silently and forces his breathing to slow, willing his blood to cool.

Not real, he reminds himself, and he has to walk his mind through the real memory of that day. _Gale was whipped and taken to Mrs. Everdeen for healing. He and Katniss did not have sex on the kitchen table, and she did not choke him. Or me. She sat with Gale all night until I told her to get some rest._

He breathes through his nose, in, out, rhythmically, for a couple more minutes till he feels calm. His eyes flutter open, and he looks to his left at the empty space left by Katniss, realizing for the first time that she must have already gotten a start on the day. Judging by the brightness of the sun in the morning sky, it must be around 9 o'clock. Usually, Peeta is up baking by now. His dreams must have exhausted him last night.

Peeta gets lost in his thoughts staring out the window, dwelling on his last dream. Feeling bitterness and jealousy at the thought of Katniss and Gale together, shame and frustration at his own feelings, and yet, somehow, slight arousal at the image of her body slithering in want.

He's not sure how much time has passed when he hears the front door close downstairs. Katniss. She moves in silence like the hunter she is, so he can't actually tell where she is until he hears a thump on the kitchen table as she sets down her game bag.

Sitting up, Peeta grabs his artificial leg from its resting position on the floor and reattaches it to his knee. He heads out of the room, trying to climb down the stairs quietly but knowing she'll hear him anyway. He finds her in the kitchen as he suspected, and, as expected, she's already turning around to greet him when he appears in the doorway.

"Are you just getting up?" Katniss asks in surprise, taking in his state of undress. Having not bothered to put on a shirt, Peeta stands in just his sleep shorts.

"Yeah," he says gruffly, running a hand through his hair. "Guess I was more tired than I thought."

She shrugs off her hunting jacket and throws it across a dining chair. "Well, I'm glad you got some more sleep then," she responds, turning back to the counter where she has placed a couple rabbits. "I tried waking you up before I left, but you must have been in a deep sleep because you didn't even budge. So I thought I'd let you sleep longer."

Peeta watches her from behind as she rolls up her sleeves and pulls out a knife. Her hair falls down her back in its usual braid. It's gotten longer now, almost as long as it had been before the games.

"I got us some rabbits today," she continues, oblivious to his stares as she begins skinning one rabbit. "I hope you're fine with rabbit stew for dinner." His eyes rake down her back, her legs and back up again. He thinks about his dream. "I haven't had breakfast yet though. What would you like?"

Ignoring her question, Peeta walks up behind her and tugs on her braid suddenly, bringing her head back slightly. Her eyes widen in surprise as he kisses the side of her exposed neck. "Peeta—" Her words cut off with a light gasp. "What are you doing?"

"Saying good morning," he murmurs against her skin, which tastes of sweat and trees. He places open-mouthed kisses on the nape of her neck, then licks up to her ear, where he sucks the tender skin behind her lobe. He maintains a firm grip on her braid so her neck remains exposed, placing his other hand on her hip.

Katniss squirms in his grasp, making a strangled sound in the back of her throat. "I—I'm skinning the, the rabbit..." The knife slips from her hand, however.

"It can wait a moment, I think." He spins her around so she's facing him, and he cups her face in his hands, capturing her lips with his before she can respond. He licks her top lip and her teeth until she opens her mouth, slipping his tongue against hers.

When he finally pulls away, he tugs lightly on her bottom lip with his teeth before releasing it. Her eyelids flutter open, and she breathes heavily as she looks at him. "What—what was that for?"

Peeta shrugs. "No reason in particular," he says. His hands leave her face, and he trails his fingertips down her neck, between her breasts and down her stomach until he reaches the waistband of her pants. "Now, tell me how your hunt went," he commands, undoing the button to her pants.

Katniss looks down in surprise, watching as he lowers her zipper. "Uh, fine, I guess. What are you doing?"

He looks at her innocently. "I'm listening to you tell me about your day." He pulls out her shirt from her pants. Stopping momentarily in his quest, he gives her an impish grin. "Was it just the rabbits you saw?"

Licking her lips, Katniss stares at him. He can see her chest rising and falling. "I got them in—they were in the snares I had set up. Yesterday."

Peeta nods and then slips his hand into her pants, reaching between her legs. When his fingers slide over the cotton covering the juncture of her thighs, her eyes widen, and she inhales sharply. "Did you shoot anything?" he asks, lazily brushing his hand back and forth between her thighs.

"What—no," she breathes, glancing down and then back at him. "Peeta, I—my hands are covered in blood, I—"

"You don't need to do anything with them," he tells her, increasing the pressure of his ministrations. "Do anything else out there?"

Her eyes are closed now, her head lolled back, clearly enjoying his movements. "I…gathered some strawberries. Blackberries too." She leans back slightly, resting her weight against the counter. Peeta steps closer so their bodies touch, his arm sandwiched between them. Her panties are damp now. He pulls his hand away but quickly reaches back in, snaking his hand inside her underwear this time, sliding his fingers between her sex. Katniss moans, capturing her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Are they big and juicy?" he asks huskily, his face spreading into a grin at her nod. He slips his middle finger inside her then, gingerly stroking her walls and eliciting another gasp from her. "I can't wait to eat them then." He pulls out his finger, slickened to the hilt from her arousal, and she whimpers, but her disappointment turns into a loud groan when he begins rubbing her clit. "Maybe we should have some for breakfast?" he questions her, but she doesn't respond, lost in the movements of his fingers. He nearly laughs. "Katniss?"

"What? Sure, I guess, that's fine," she forces out between moans. She curls her fingers at her sides.

"I just think, since you worked so hard getting them, we should indulge ourselves a little this morning," he whispers, looking down. The neckline of her shirt hangs low, revealing the tops of her breasts. Peeta lifts his free hand while his other hand continues to slip back and forth in the increasingly wet folds between her thighs. Trailing his index finger down her chest, he pushes the shirt down till he reaches her bra. There, he traces the top of the cup down between her breasts, then he slips his finger underneath, brushing over the already hardened nipple. "Don't you think so, Katniss? That we should indulge ourselves this morning?" He punctuates the end of his sentence by pushing two fingers inside her, pumping them in and out.

"Yes!" she blurts out, gripping the forearm of his hand between her legs with her left hand and bracing her other one against his chest. "Peeta...nngh, please..."

Smiling wolfishly, Peeta slips his hand into her bra, palming her breast entirely. He pulls out his fingers and resumes rubbing her clit, bearing down harder and faster. Katniss squeezes her eyes tightly, and he watches her breath hitch in her throat as she stiffens, seeming to draw up taller, and then she cries out, moaning something intelligible as she arches her head back. Peeta quickly slips his fingers back inside her, feeling her pulse around him as she comes.

When she settles down, he gives her breast a light squeeze before withdrawing his hand. Her eyes flutter open, and she stares at him hazily as he retracts his hand from her pants. He smirks at her as he makes a show of refastening her pants and tucking her shirt back in. She continues to look at him through heavily lidded eyes, and he glances down at her hands still clutching him. There are smears of blood on his wrist and collarbone.

"Look at you, you made such a mess, Katniss," he mocks her. Her mouth tightens, but her eyes are full of mirth.

"You're such a bastard, Mellark," she snaps, emphasizing her point by swiping a finger down his cheek and leaving a red mark. He laughs and grabs her by her wrists, drawing her to his chest and framing her face between his palms. Kissing her fiercely, he groans in the back of his throat as she indirectly shifts against his hard-on.

"You don't mean that," he murmurs against her lips, gazing into her eyes.

"Yes, I do," she says, her voice resolute but her eyes teasing. She lifts her thigh slightly to rub his erection some more. "And don't think I'm going to do anything to help you with _that_."

She moves away from him abruptly, turning toward the sink to wet a washcloth. Peeta chuckles in discomfort, adjusting his shorts. "Tease."

When Katniss turns back to him, she smirks. "I told you I was busy, didn't I?" she points out, wiping the blood smears from his wrist and chest. She rubs his cheek tenderly with the cloth, steadying his chin in her hand. Once he's clean, she wipes the remaining blood from her hands. Tossing the rag on the counter, she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses his lips lightly. "Maybe I should let you sleep late every morning."

Peeta smiles, but he thinks back to the dream he had before waking up. He purses his lips thoughtfully as she places tiny kisses along his jawline. "Actually, I have something to confess."

"What?" she asks, distracted by the pulse point on his throat.

"I...well, I had a dream this morning. About..." he hesitates for a moment but forges ahead, "well, it was about you and Gale. It was not a good dream. For me."

She pulls back to look at him in confusion. "Okay. What was it about exactly?"

He glances over his shoulder at the kitchen table and then looks back at her, sighing. "It was after—the whipping, you know. You two were…having sex."

She just stares at him. Her arms fall from his shoulders, and she puts her hands on her hips, her eyebrows furrowed. "So, what was this then? Like a jealousy thing?"

"No," he says quickly but adds weakly, "I mean, not really, no. Mostly, I was just kind of turned on...by you." He touches her cheek, trailing his fingers down to her chin. "And maybe there was just a bit of possessiveness. I don't mean to upset you, Katniss."

She rubs her face and then slowly takes his hand in both of hers. "Peeta, you know you can talk to me about these dreams. I can help you with them."

"No, look, I know that didn't happen—I mean, like that, I know that didn't happen like _that_. I was only upset because—well, I just don't like to think of you like that with anyone else. I do feel a little possessive of you, I guess."

He tries to smile apologetically at her, but she still looks at him in slight bewilderment. "Peeta, I never...with Gale. We never did anything like that."

He holds up his hands. "Listen, I know I have no right—whatever you did with him, or with anyone else, really—before you and I—" he's having a hard time articulating his point and feels flustered. "It's not my business. I have no right to…feel anything about it, I guess."

"No, I suppose not," she sighs, squeezing his hand. "Regardless, I've never been with anyone like that but you. Just so you know."

Bringing her hand up to his mouth, he kisses it gingerly. "They're just dreams, I know," he says faintly. Then he smiles wryly. "Sorry I ruined the moment."

Katniss returns his smile. "I wouldn't say that. But I should finish cleaning these rabbits."

He nods and lets her go, but not before giving her a lingering kiss. Before she turns back to the counter, he glances down at his groin and back at her. "Good news, though. I took care of my problem myself." She laughs.


End file.
